


A Sentimental Feeling

by CubbieGirl1723



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: An Echolls Family Christmas, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Gift Exchange, Season 1, Veronica Mars Gift Exchange 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:55:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21922534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CubbieGirl1723/pseuds/CubbieGirl1723
Summary: Veronica visits Logan in the aftermath of An Echolls Family Christmas.
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Comments: 30
Kudos: 115





	A Sentimental Feeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gingermaggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingermaggie/gifts).



> Happy holidays, [gingermaggie!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gingermaggie/works) I hope you enjoy a little LoVe banter :)

Veronica can’t believe she’s doing this. Bitting her lip, she taps her fingers on the LeBaron’s steering wheel and contemplates the wisdom of making a U-turn, going back home.

But she keeps seeing Logan’s face in her mind. The way his hands shook around the phone.The panic in his wide brown eyes as he called 911, after he saw his father stabbed at their family Christmas party. 

She actually tried to get to him last night after it happened, but her dad hustled her out of the Echolls mansion as fast as he could, telling her to stay away from everyone involved, muttering something about Neptune being a den of iniquity. 

From what she had seen, he wasn’t wrong.But she still can’t seem to make herself turn the car around. 

It’s not like they’re friends anymore, that’s clear. They haven’t been friends since before Lilly died. So why is she driving over to Logan’s house to check on him? He has a staff full of people to make sure he’s okay, plus he’s the most popular boy at Neptune High. He’s probably surrounded by supportive friends. 

But she learned just how fickle those “friends” could be last year. Chewing at a cuticle, she punches in the gate security code that he gave her years ago and pulls into the driveway. 

It’s deserted. Paparazzi must be camped out at the hospital instead. She’s kinda surprised that Dick’s truck isn’t here, though, or Duncan’s SUV. 

Maybe they all went surfing with Logan this morning to take his mind off things and this is a fool’s errand. She’ll just pop in the pool house and the main building, check quickly, and be on her way.

Glancing at the sprawling mansion, all she can think of is the spot where Aaron was stabbed last night. The ice pick falling to the floor, his attacker’s face snarled in anger. Hopefully Logan is in the pool house. 

But when she sticks her head in, it’s quiet.

“Logan?” she calls out.

No answer.

With a deep sigh, Veronica considers her options. She could just leave. He’s probably not here anyway, won’t want to see her if he is. 

But she’s come this far. Might as well make sure so she can go home and stop worrying about this boy she doesn’t even like.

No one approaches her as she opens the patio door. Glancing around, the main house is also deserted.

“Hello? Anybody home? I was just…”

She trails off. No one is listening, anyway.

In the quiet, she faintly hears machine gun fire and screams, coming from upstairs. A video game.

_ Logan. _

Hoisting the strap of her bag higher onto her shoulder, she mounts the stairs, preparing for an ugly confrontation.

_ You could still go home, Veronica. Logan’s obviously here, fine enough to be playing video games. He probably doesn’t want to be bothered. _

But she continues to put one foot in front of the other.

“Logan?” 

She makes her voice loud enough to be heard over the video game and seconds later, the sound halts, filling the hallway with silence. 

Logan’s head pops out of his doorway, brow wrinkled in confusion that melds into anger. 

“What are you doing here, Veronica? How did you get in?”

He tosses the PlayStation controller dangling from his fingers into his room and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“You never changed my code.” 

She hates the reminder that they used to be friends, used to be close enough that she had her own security code. 

“And in your world, that’s an open invitation?” He throws his arms up in dramatic exasperation. “Well, come on in.”

He stalks back into his bedroom and she shifts her weight from one foot to another, weighing her options. 

_ Go home. He’s fine _ . 

But. 

He didn’t yell at her or tell her to leave. In fact, he invited her to stay. He was sarcastic, yeah, but in Logan Land, that’s practically begging for company. 

Warily, she steps over the threshold and into his bedroom. She’s been in it before, obviously, and it’s not like he’s redecorated. Still, so much has changed since the last time she set foot in it that she looks around, expecting it to reflect those differences.

It doesn’t. It’s a typical teenage boy bedroom, complete with piles of laundry next to the hamper, video game controls tangled together in front of the TV, and a (signed) poster of Alissa Milano. 

But the tiny Christmas tree in the corner catches her eye. Based on the tinsel clumps and the haphazard lights, Lynn’s professional decorators won’t claim this as their work. 

“What are you doing here, Veronica?”

“I—”

She should have thought this through a little better, come up with a plan. She can’t very well tell him that she was worried about him. 

“Are you okay? My dad sent me...your mom wanted to make sure...”

Based on the skeptical look that Logan sends her, he doesn’t believe her flimsy excuse, either. But instead of a scathing retort, he merely raises his eyebrows and gestures up and down his body. 

“Wow, Mars Investigations is more thorough than I expected. Yep, you can see I’m fine.”

She should go, she should go, she should go. Playing with the strap on her bag again, she intends to, until something on his pitiful Christmas tree catches her eye. She moves to inspect it.

A triangle face made of popsicle sticks, pipe cleaner antlers, googly eyes. 

_ I can’t believe he kept this _ .

Her fingers reach out, brush against the wooden surface. 

“Remember…” she whispers. His gaze meets hers and she knows he does.

They were probably twelve or thirteen, the Christmas she brought arts and crafts supplies over to the Kanes and forced everyone to construct homemade ornaments. Lilly complained that she was too old for kid stuff, Duncan blushed the whole time and kept sending her bashful smiles, and Logan dumped a bottle of glitter in her hair. It took weeks to get it out of her scalp and he referred to her as Sparkle Elf for the entirety of winter break.

Huffing a soft laugh, he runs his hand over his own hair. Coming to stand next to her, he picks a clump of tinsel off the tree and holds it above her head. 

“Wanna reprise your role of Sparkle Elf?”

“No, thanks.” She bats away his hand, grinning.

The softness in his eyes reminds her that her friend is in there somewhere. He’d disappeared after Lilly died but...recently there had moments when she saw the real Logan peeking out through this jackass’s mask. 

A moment during the poker game the other night, a shared glance at Lilly’s memorial dedication, a smirk across the journalism room. Signs of life. 

He drops the tinsel back onto the tree, still in one big messy clump. Veronica busies herself, redistributing it to fill the awkward silence that descends while he stares at her, hands in his pockets. 

“Hey, Veronica?”

Logan’s voice is rusty, as if he’s forgotten how to use it. Which of course doesn’t make sense because he’s been aiming verbal barbs at her for months now. 

He clears his throat, tries again. “You can tell your dad I’m fine. Pretty sure that stalker got what she wanted, anyway.” A bitter note creeps into his voice and she can’t help but think of his philandering father. 

There’s nothing left for her to do at this point. Not sure why she wants to prolong this exchange anyway—stupid holiday nostalgia—Veronica gives him a tiny smile and shifts towards the door.

“I’ll get out of your hair, then. Feel free to call if you need anything.” Realizing what she just said, she hurries to add, “I mean, my dad. If you need his services.”

“Right.” Logan nods. “Unless…”

He holds up the controller, manages to keep a straight face. “You think he wants to come play Grand Theft Auto?”

Veronica scoffs. “Are you kidding? You know he’d destroy you.”

Gulping, she takes a chance. “Now, if you want to lose at Mario Kart...you’ve never been able to beat me.”

“Lies, Mars. There was that one time—”

“Doesn’t count.” She cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “We got interrupted.” 

Logan glances widely around his room, then dangles the controller in front of her. “Doesn’t look like there are any excuses—I mean, distractions—for you this time. Rematch?”

_ What the hell? Am I being Punk’d? _

She hesitates a moment too long. He snatches the controller away and the light in his eyes dims.

“Nevermind. You wouldn’t stand a chance anyway,” he mutters, turning his back on her.

Dropping her bag on the floor, she wrestles the remote out of his hand. “Wanna test that theory, Echolls?”

She smirks up at him and Logan’s fingers loosen on the remote. But instead of responding to the challenge, he gazes down at her steadily. The intense look is out of place and makes her uncomfortable.

“Veronica,” he begins, tone serious, “Can we call a truce? Just today. And just pretend things are the way they used to be?”

_ Is this a trap? Is he going to use this against me later? _

But his expression stays earnest while he waits for her answer.

She clears her throat. “If by ‘the way things used to be,’ you mean I’m gonna kick your ass, then yes.”

That seems to do the trick. A wide smile spreads across Logan’s face as he takes the PlayStation remote, exchanges it for a Wii controller, and puts in the disk for Mario Kart. 

“Game on, Mars.”

* * *

“Okay, I need a brief intermission,” Veronica begs hours later. “Bathroom break.”

Pausing the game, Logan waves in the direction of his en suite bathroom and she has to fight the urge to snoop. 

_ It’s a teenage boy’s bathroom, Veronica. Don’t look too close. _

After washing her hands, she exits to find Logan, flopped on his bed. Up until that moment, she had kind of forgotten that he was, in fact, a teenage boy and she had spent the afternoon in his bedroom. 

“I’m starving, Mars,” he says, before she has a chance to really embrace her freak-out moment. “Wanna come with me, find some snacks?”

“Always.” 

Following Logan downstairs, they raid the kitchen, together assembling an interesting assortment of leftovers from the party last night—canapes, chips, Skist, and fruit skewers. Still feeling a little out of place, eating in the Echolls kitchen with her sworn enemy, Veronica’s not sure what to say.

“How were your finals?” Logan finally asks, a slight wince on his face after the words leave his mouth. Clearly he’s as out of his element as she is.

“Fine.” Grasping for anything to bridge the gap, she goes with, “You like journalism this year?”

“Yeah, it’s not too bad.”

Logan stares at his empty plate.

“This is delicious but it needs something sweet. Do you have any of those little tarts left from last night?”

He raises a sardonic brow. “There were lots of tarts in attendance, it turns out. None of them stuck around.”

_ Perhaps a poor word choice, Veronica _ .

“How is your dad, anyway?”

“He’ll live.” 

Logan’s bitter tone implies that he’s not convinced that’s a happy outcome. 

“Cookies? Cake?” She fills the silence, desperate to change the subject. 

Logan shakes his head no.

“We could make some.” The words pop out of her mouth before she has a chance to think about what she’s suggesting. To her surprise, Logan shrugs. 

“Okay. But I didn’t really pay attention in those Cordon Bleu classes so...not to be sexist, but it’s mostly gonna be you.”

“I think you mean me, telling you what to do.” She raises her eyebrows at him, smirks. 

“Dominatrix streak, huh, Veronica? Are those rumors true?”

“You’d know, you started them,” she shoots back, playful tone gone. 

His face falls after the words leave her mouth. 

“That wasn’t me,” he mumbles, inspecting the countertop and tracing it with his fingernail. 

“No, it was Dick or Enbom or somebody else but you didn’t stop it.” Crossing her arms, Veronica’s voice stays quiet but her eyes harden. 

“I was pissed, okay!” Logan pushes away from the counter, paces the kitchen. “Pissed at Lilly, pissed at you for Yolanda, for, for—I don’t even know why.”

He halts and stares at her. “I was pissed at Duncan, too. Pissed at everybody. But…”

“I know. I’m still angry, too. And—” 

Logan cuts her off with a bitter laugh. “I don’t want to stop being angry, Veronica, because that might mean she’s really gone and....”

Stepping closer to him, she covers his hand with her own. 

“I miss her, too.”

Logan must find comfort in her eyes because after gazing down at her, he finally breaks contact, clears his throat. “Hanging out with you today...it’s like she’s not so far.”

“Yeah.” She squeezes his fingers, and suddenly can’t stand to be around him a minute longer, knowing that it’s all going back to the way it was once she leaves. She drops her hand to her side. “Um, I should go. Sorry to pass on the cookies, but…”

Veronica can’t think of an excuse. Turning to go, Logan’s cracking voice halts her. 

“Hey, Veronica?” She looks back at him. He stares down at the counter, his lashes stark against his round cheeks. “I’m not saying we should start sitting with each other at lunch or anything but...maybe…” He clears his throat, makes eye contact with her, and she’d forgotten how intense his gaze can be. “Maybe our truce could continue?”

She gasps. “A Christmas miracle?”

Her sarcastic shock lightens the mood, just like she wanted, and a slow grin spreads across Logan’s face. 

“I think my heart just grew three sizes,” he snarks back. 

Veronica makes a production of pulling her cell phone from her back pocket and checking it, then returns it and leans her elbows on the counter. “My schedule just freed up. Cookies?”

His eyes twinkle. “I think this is the beginning...again...of a beautiful friendship.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for everything, [MarshmellowBobcat!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MellowBobcat/works) You're the best and this would be an untitled mess without your help!


End file.
